


In The Dark of Night

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts [71]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Battle, Darkspawn, F/M, Grey Wardens, Protectiveness, Shriek Ambush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 19:44:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonage.One word prompts. Prompt #3: Darkness.Sevarra Amell is standing watch that fateful night the Shrieks ambush the Grey Warden party camp. When one of them tries to attack someone particularly special to her, she gets pissed off.





	In The Dark of Night

The night sky held almost no light in its vast depths. Cloud cover thicker than the fanciest of duvets to be found in noble bed chambers made all but certain that no stars could peek out. Even if the clouds had not been thick, neither of the moons would’ve had anything in the way of light to offer those who traveled the night-time lands below. Both were in the phase that made them all but invisible to the creatures of Thedas who had a view of the skies above. A lone figure stood on the edge of the camp with nothing but a small pink wisp of light hovering over their shoulder for company.

Normally, darkness did not bother the lone Warden who stood watch. She knew full well that night had to have its turn just as much as the day did. It was the way of things, the natural order, the way the Maker intended it. At least that was how the stories the Chantry Sisters told her went. The mage held her summoned wisp in the palm of a hand, watching it for a few heartbeats so that it wouldn’t vanish. She knew better, the little thing would not leave until she dismissed it or she fell unconscious. Wisps were simple but obedient.

Something crept along the edge of her sensing, tickling, teasing, the barest whisper of even being there. It wasn’t the familiar silken sensation of magic and mana being manipulated. It wasn’t magic at work. Her other sensing, the product of surviving the Joining, told her that someone, someone who wasn’t Alistair, was drawing closer and closer. Or perhaps some_thing._

Time seemed to freeze in between one heartbeat and the next. Her sensing screamed that they had company, and plenty of it, surrounding them. She called out for Fang out of instinct. She and the mabari had long since mastered the art of working as if they were one mind in two different bodies. A scream ripped the silence to shreds, a sound that no mouth of the civilized peoples could make, a sound that made blood and marrow want to freeze in terror. _Darkspawn, _her sensing cried out silently. In the next heartbeat, she made her voice repeat the warning aloud, a ragged yell leaving her throat. “Darkspawn! We’re surrounded!”

Across the camp, she heard Alistair bellow out a warning to the rest of their party. She did not have time to see if any of them were able to grab their weapons or put on some bit of armor. She’d been one of the few still awake, taking the second watch on her own so the others could rest. There was no time to think. There was only time to embrace instinct and act. Her instincts, honed from their visit to Orzammar and the Deep Roads in recent months, cried out for the death and destruction of darkspawn, _her prey._

She embraced the huntress that came to her mind’s surface, another facet of herself that shook itself out of slumber and took control. It was easier to let the huntress do the fighting when darkspawn were around. To do it as herself was too horrifying and would rob her of too much sleep that she’d badly need later. In spite of their horrifically warped features, darkspawn still looked too much like _people _for her not-huntress self to dispatch effectively. There had to be distance, obedience to the heartless but fair rule that dictated only the strongest could survive. Sevarra knew for damned certain that she was anything but weak.

Ice engulfed one shriek. A fist of rock came flying from the opposite direction, shattering the monster upon impact. Morrigan shot the briefest of smirks her way before turning to unleash a torrent of lightning on the next darkspawn to draw too close to the Witch of the Wilds. The Warden mirrored the expression. The pair of mages worked well together. She turned to send bolts of arcane energy and electricity at varying darkspawn, using the missiles to shoo them away from the more vulnerable party members.

A genlock exploded in a cloud of gore, mercifully well away from any non-Wardens. One less creature to harry them with arrows. She allowed herself the briefest of smiles to savor the display. Something screamed out in her mind to look out. Not questioning it, she lashed out with a cone of ice magic, missing Zevran by perhaps a hair’s breadth. The creature that’d almost stabbed him in the back, however, was now frozen solid. Rage boiled in her belly. How **dare** that creature attack the one that belonged to **her**?! She launched a stone fist spell at the frozen shriek with an angry bellow. The monster fell to the ground in pieces.

Time was both crawling by slowly and racing by faster than the finest horses of the crown’s cavalry. She was snapped back into the present, out of her huntress-self thinking, by a hand on her shoulder squeezing firmly. Wynne spoke again, more forcefully.

“You can stop now. There’s nothing left of that one but ash and bone. One more bolt of lightning will accomplish nothing but making yourself even more tired. I think we’ve killed them all, my dear.”

The Warden mage paused and took a breath, and then another. She shut her eyes and reached out with her sensing. She found only the comforting familiarity of her fellow Grey Warden. Nothing else was close enough to be detected. She sagged, leaning against her staff. Wynne was right about the exhaustion, she realized with chagrin.

Later that night in her tent, as she and Zevran lay catching their breath following a round of glad-to-be-alive lovemaking, her thoughts drifted toward the battle. _One of those things nearly got him, _she thought angrily.

She turned her head to find him gazing at her with a lazy smile. She returned it with one of her own and reached out to stroke a stray lock of hair from in front of his eyes.

_I won’t let them have you, _she thought vehemently. _Not ever._


End file.
